


Is That A Smile I See Before Me?

by donutsweeper



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Community: avengerkink, Gen, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:31:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Tony's opinion Steve Rogers is the most stuffy, boring human being in existence, but when he complains as much to Natasha she suggests he's doing the man a disservice and seeing only what he wants to see so Tony goes out to prove her wrong. Things do not go the way he expects they will, not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is That A Smile I See Before Me?

"Really," Tony groused loudly, stalking into the room and interrupting movie night by flicking on the lights and pouring himself a drink. "That man is the most stuffy, boring human being I have ever had to spend time with and considering I once spent two hours with Tony Blair, that's saying something."

Clint, sitting stretched out on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, flicked popcorn kernel after popcorn kernel at Tony, each hitting with his typical pinpoint accuracy. "We're watching 'Singing in the Rain' here, Stark. Kill the lights."

"Oh, 'Singing in the Rain', how dare I interrupt 'Singing in the Rain'? Spoiler boys and girls, Gene Kelly gets the girl and the loser friend gets the shaft."

"Cosmo is not a loser," Natasha said, pausing the movie before smacking Clint. "Quit wasting popcorn."

"Who's boring?" Bruce took advantage of Natasha's distraction and grabbed the bowl away before any fighting had a chance to break out.

"Our own friendly senior citizen, Mister My Personality Was Surgically Removed but don't I look fine, Steve Rogers. I'm beginning to think he might break something if he actually smiles. It is impossible to get anything remotely resembling a laugh out of that man."

Natasha shifted, perching half on the arm of the couch and half against Clint's side. "There's plenty of evidence that says otherwise."

Tony downed his drink in one gulp and made a 'go on' motion with the empty glass. "Explain."

"Didn't you read the reports?" Natasha offered, somehow sounding enigmatic yet bored at the same time.

"Of course I read the reports," Tony shot back.

" _All_ the reports?"

"Hey. Quit it." Clint smacked Natasha with a pillow and promptly ducked her retaliatory strike. "We're in the middle of a movie here. Can't you two gossip some other time? Bruce, back me up here, man."

Bruce held his hands out and stood up. "Oh, no, I'm staying out of it. I'm going to go down to the lab, text me if you decide to start up the movie again tonight."

"No, Bruce. Come on, movie," Clint whined, pointing to the screen, but Bruce just waved as he headed out and Clint sighed, sinking his head into his hands. "We didn't even get to the roses and toeses part."

"Oh, poor baby." Natasha scrubbed her fingers through his hair. "Quit pouting, we'll watch it later and start from the beginning so you can see the whole 'Dignity Always Dignity' montage again."

"Promise?"

"She promises," Tony said quickly. " _I_ promise she promises. Now, Nat, spill. What do you know about tall, blond and spangled that I don't?"

"He led the Howling Commandos."

"And? Because that's old news. I knew that when I was like, five."

"Did you ever meet any of them?"

"Sure, in fact Dugan was the one that gave me my first cigar. I was sick as a dog for a week. And come to think of it, Jones taught me to swear in a bunch of languages which wound up being more useful than I'm willing to admit in even not-so- polite company. But what does that have to do with-"

"Steve Rogers?" she interrupted. "He was their captain. Ask yourself this, is there anything about the Commandos that makes you think they were dull or boring?"

"That doesn't mean anything. Look at Fury. Being in charge doesn't make you magically grow a sense of humor."

Natasha shook her head. "You have no idea, do you? Go back into the files and look this time, really look. Skip the mission reports and find the photos of that Christmas party. Read the file with General Phillip's comments on the prank war between Morita and Dugan. Never assume the basic intel available is everything, Stark. You know better than that." She turned to Clint and punched his arm. "Come on, you big lump, I want to spar. If you're lucky I might even let you land a punch or two."

"Let me?" Clint huffed. "You have a pretty high opinion of yourself there, Ms. Romanoff. You've never _let_ me do anything."

"First time for everything," she countered.

"Race you to the gym!" Clint shouted as he threw two large cushions at her while launching himself over the back of the couch. "Later, Stark!"

"Such a child," she muttered, putting the couch to right before straightening and looking at Tony. "Don't do Rogers a disservice. Perhaps you should consider that you are only seeing in him what he wishes you to see." Meeting his eyes, she waited until he nodded before leaving.

"Well," Tony said to himself. "Looks like I have some research to do."

Once Tony had started to dig into the files he wanted to kick himself. He'd always prided himself on finding out anything and everything he'd needed to know and boy had he fallen down on the job regarding Captain America. 

Belatedly, he realized that was because he'd assumed he already _knew_ everything. He'd grown up hearing stories about the man, after all. Howard had his never-ending search going on and there had been plenty of times one or two of Commandos had stopped by for a chat, not to mention the various parties they'd all attended. Telling grandiose tales about their adventures with Captain America had become some sort of past time for most of them as they'd gotten older and Tony had always been a willing audience. Thinking back on it though, it was obvious that while the stories were appropriately dramatic and everything a kid could want to hear, they were about Steve Rogers, the Captain, not Steve Rogers, the person. 

And what a person he apparently was. The personal photos that had made their way into Rogers' file via the Howling Commandos' own collections were nothing like the ones there via official means. Mister Glower and Grump smiled. Not just one of those semi-polite, slight quirk of the side of the mouth smiles either. Bright, brilliant smiles, one after another, and even a few shots of him with his head back, obviously laughing uproariously. 

Laughing.

Seriously? What the hell? 

Steve Rogers never laughed, he just didn't. Hell, he had hardly ever even smiled in all the time that Tony had known him. Tony could tell the dirtiest, raunchiest joke or pull the slickest of pranks and Rogers would barely react but this group of ragtag soldier misfits, _they_ could get the guffaws? It made no sense, no sense at all. What did they have that he didn't?

Nothing, that's what. And if Captain Crankypants could crack a smile for those losers, then just wait until Tony put even the tiniest bit of his effort into getting a grin out of him. Tony rubbed his hands together. Operation Smilin' Steve was a go.

This was going to be _fun_.

Or not.

Stage one of Operation Smilin' Steve was not a rousing success. In fact, it would not be entirely incorrect to label it a bit of a failure. It went something like this:

Rogers, ever the good soldier, had arrived early to Fury's weekly debrief, just as Tony had expected him to. Tony, breaking a promise to himself, not only attended the debrief, but arrived ON TIME for the damned thing so he could grab the seat next to Rogers and put the first part of his plan into motion. Said plan involved getting Rogers to loosen up with some light hearted, joking banter.

So when Fury paused in the middle of his ridiculously boring lecture to pass out some papers Tony leaned over, bumped Rogers' shoulder, and said, "He should have a nickname."

"What?" Rogers looked up from his note taking. Yeah, while Fury had been droning on and on Captain Sparkles had actually been paying attention and checking off items on the agenda as Fury covered them while also taking notes in the most painstakingly neat handwriting that Tony had ever seen.

Tony poked Rogers. "Any suggestions?"

"Shhhh!" Rogers hissed. Actually hissed. Who the hell actually hisses?

"Fury's nickname," Tony explained. "He needs a nickname. I'm thinking One Eyed Wonder or The Wrathful One or-"

"Stark," Rogers bent over to whisper to Tony. "I don't know what you're trying for, but there is a time and a place for your particular brand of juvenile behavior and now is not that time. "

"Captain," Fury called out from the front of the room, "is there something you would like to add meeting?" 

"No, sir." Rogers gave Tony a scathing, and far too familiar, look. "Sorry, sir." And he then proceeded to shift his chair slightly further away from Tony.

Right. Well, Tony thought to himself. Back to the drawing board.

Tony didn't get it, he really didn't. Okay, maybe stage one was ill advised, but stage two was downright hilarious and Rogers only sighed and rubbed that spot right between his eyes. The old 'shake up the can of soda so it sprays everywhere' joke worked like a _charm_ and it was funny! Clint almost snorted beer up his nose he was laughing so hard and even Natasha cracked a smile, but not Rogers. Oh no, he merely tried to mop up the mess with a cocktail napkin, sighed that stupid sigh of his and left to change into clean clothes.

Stage three involved thirty three fake spiders and a roomful of fake webbing, stage four involved hiring several movers and construction workers having Rogers' entire apartment flipped upside down so all the furniture and every single item he owned was hanging from ceiling and stage five took several thousand dollars and the entire cast of "Princess Leia and the Stormstrippers" to pull off but all were for naught.

Stupid Steve Rogers never cracked a single stupid smile.

He sighed.

He pursed his lips. 

He shook his head.

But he did not smile.

Damn the man.

"All right," Tony declared as he swept into the room and disturbed yet another movie night. "Natasha, sweetheart, I hate to tell you, but you were wrong. Maybe Captain Can't Crack A Smile used to be a fun loving guy, but his time in the ice must've froze it out of him, because he sure as hell isn't one now."

Clint, who started slamming his head onto the coffee table the moment Tony flicked on the lights, moaned, "Movie night. Why is it always movie night?"

"Oh, give me a break, Legolas, you can watch," Tony squinted at the screen, "is that 'The Court Jester'? You're watching 'The Court Jester'? Really?"

"Interesting that you can identify what movie we're watching even though Danny Kaye hasn't even _become_ the jester yet," Natasha dryly commented.

"How many other movies are there that have baby's butts as pivotal plot points?" Tony countered, before adding a quick, "You know what, never mind, don't answer that. If there are others I don't want to know. What I do want to know is-" but he was interrupted by a barrage of couch cushions being hurled at him.

"Stop it." Natasha grabbed the last cushion before Clint could throw it. "I've paused the movie. Now, why don't you go make some popcorn and I'll see what the evil man wants."

"Evil man? Evil man? I am not an evil man! I am your benevolent landlord, graciously allowing you to live _rent free_ in my humble abode and this is the thanks I get?"

Clint mumbled something about movie night and how next time he was bringing his bow, but he diligently left the room and headed to the kitchen. Tony watched him go just long enough to make sure he didn't try anything before turning back to Natasha, who was glaring at him.

"What did you do?" she asked in that way of hers that implied she already knew and was terribly disappointed in that knowledge. "Other than the obvious and interrupt the movie just to annoy Clint."

"This has nothing to do with Barton," he explained. "I did just what you said I should do." Tony waggled his finger at her and then hastily shoved his hand in his pocket when her eyes narrowed dangerously. 

"Is this about how you've been such being an ass to Rogers? Because I certainly didn't say anything about _that._ " She didn't look at him as she spoke, her attention on resetting the couch in some sort of bizarre manner with cushions in positions that were in no way a typical arrangement.

"You're the one that brought up the idea of a prank war!"

Natasha crossed her arms and sighed. "For a brilliant man you are truly an idiot, Stark."

"Hey!"

"She's got a point," Clint said, ambling in with plates of food lined up and balancing on both arms. 

"No one invited you to the conversation, Barton."

"You wound me, Stark. But even so, that doesn't mean I'm wrong, does it?" Clint smirked before looking over at the couch. "Aww, Nat, you built me a pillow nest. I knew you loved me." 

Quirking a smile she helped him unload the food onto the coffee table before grabbing the remote and turning back to Tony. "Look at the pictures again, Stark. Captain Rogers wasn't smiling at his men because they were playing pranks on him; he was smiling because they were his men. His friends. Maybe you should ask yourself what the difference between now and then really is." Then she settled into the couch next to Clint, put the movie back on and clicked up the volume to the point it was so loud it ended the even possibility of further discussion.

Well, no one ever said Tony Stark couldn't take a hint so he left them to their movie. Besides, he apparently had some reassessing and planning to do.

It turned out that plopping down next to Rogers, stealing his coffee and declaring, "So, comrade in arms, friend-o-mine, dare I say bestest of buds, what do you say we blow this popsicle stand and go have some fun" was neither an acceptable nor appropriate way to begin a conversation. Things you learn.

Rogers turned to Tony and gave him one of those pinched brow, slightly frowning looks of his before shaking his head and sighing. "I was drinking that, Stark." 

"And now it's mine. You shared your coffee with me, that's what friends do. It's sweet. The act, not the coffee. This coffee is crap."

Sighing again, Rogers stood up and walked over to the sink and began washing out a new mug. "I've had worse. Besides, no one is forcing you to drink it." He sounded tired. No, it was more than that, more than just needing a bit of sleep, the man sounded like he was exhausted. Physically and mentally worn out and it made Tony cringe just a little bit.

"No, seriously, this coffee is like a crime against humanity or something," Tony said, changing tactics and going for a light, joking approach. "The bean's are off, the flavor burnt and if that machine's been cleaned out since the Carter administration I'll give up Twinkies for Lent." 

The wrinkles appeared again on Rogers' forehead. "You observe Lent?"

"No. Not that it matters since Hostess went out of business and Twinkies have gone the way of the dodo, much like my taste buds will do if I drink any more of this. Come on, I'm taking you somewhere that has actual baristas and if you're good I'll buy you an éclair. Or wait, a mille-feuille. I bet you'd like a mille-feuille."

"I.... I don't even know what that it."

"It's a dessert, I'll get you one to try. And some coffee, real stuff not this crap that's only masquerading as it. Or, oooh, I know, an Americano! I bet you'll love one of those. You can be patriotic and caffeinate all at the same time."

"Stark," Rogers began. His shoulders sagged and he lifted his hand up, but stopped moments before scrubbing it over face, which was probably a good thing considering it was sopping wet and covered in soapy bubbles. He grabbed a towel instead and began drying the mug he'd just washed a lot more vigorously that Tony thought was probably necessary.

"Tony," Tony corrected.

"Sorry, what?"

"You always call me Stark, never Tony. My name's Tony, call me Tony. Now, how about coming with me to get that coffee and something to eat? My treat." Tony approached Rogers as he spoke and, when no attack of any kind seemed imminent, he grabbed Rogers' arm and began pulling him to the door. "So, come on, Cap-"

"Steve."

"What?"

"My name's Steve."

"Okay, _Steve_ , come on, let's get out of here." As Tony led Rogers... Steve... to the elevator he watched the him out of the corner of his eye and while he wasn't sure, he thought there might have been the slightest of upticks of a smile on his face.

Progress at last.

Tony decided that discretion was the better part of valor and decided against taking Steve to Starbucks or any other of the boring, cookie cutter coffee chains that had sprung up around the city over the last decade or so. The man may be a staunch supporter of truth, justice and the capitalistic way, but there was no need to expose him to the Venti half-caf light whip nonsense that masqueraded as espresso drinks these days. Instead, he opted for something a little more low key and chose a small bakery that Happy insisted had the best brownies in the entire tri-state area and if anyone knew brownies, it was Happy Hogan. 

"Come on," Tony said as he led Steve inside. "You'll like this place. Great coffee and brownies are amazing. Okay, you hadn't heard of mille-feuille before, but what about brownies? You've had a brownie at some point in your lifetime, haven't you? I mean I know the Depression was depressing and all that, but there _was_ chocolate at least, right?"

"There was chocolate," Steve confirmed. "We even got it in our C-rations sometimes, a Brach's Fudge disk in the B unit. I loved those, I'd always trade the guys my cigarettes for their desserts."

"Cigarettes?" That was surprising enough to stop Tony in his tracks. What on earth was a paragon of health like Steve Rogers doing with cigarettes? "You had cigarettes?"

"Yeah, sure. They were included in the rations, but for some of the guys who smoked there were never enough, especially since we were off on reconnaissance or away from base so much. I didn't smoke, but I was always hungry so it worked out great."

"You had cigarettes," Tony reiterated, feeling a bit like a broken record, but really, _cigarettes_ "The army gave out cigarettes?"

"Yes?" Steve gave him a confused, raised eyebrow look before he turned his attention to the pastry display case and began reading off some of the items' labels. "Does everything have an unusual name here? S'morelicious brownies, pumpkin cheesecake thankseverything brownies, congo bongo bars, ooey gooey lemon bars, triple chocolate death bars. Death bars?"

"You know those are bad for you, right?" They gave Captain America cigarettes, holy shit. 

"Well, yeah, the name alone seemed to imply that." Steve continued to stare at the baked goods, seemingly both bemused and confused. Not surprisingly, it wasn't a bad look for him.

"No, I meant the cigarettes. They cause cancer and," Tony trailed off, trying to remember, but found he couldn't so he merely added, "kill you and whatnot."

"Really? But people are still smoking."

"Yeah, well it's there's something about doing things that are bad for you that appeals to some people. Not me, mind you."

"Of course not," Steve responded. "Because you are the paragon of common sense."

"Hey, watch it, I'm the one caffeinating you here," Tony shot back, grinning as he walked up to the counter and placed their orders. "An Americano, largest size you got, and a death bar and a carrot creation for my friend and a I'll have a double depth charge," he said as he handed over his card.

"For here or to go?" the perky and probably caffeinated barista asked as she started their order.

"Here, thanks." 

"You're not having anything to eat?" Steve asked, in that over protective, mama bear, super concerned way of his. It was kind of cute. Annoying, but cute.

Tony stuffed the credit card back in his wallet before grabbing the plate with Steve's bars. Then, realizing he hadn't specified tip for his order, he shoved some bills into the tip jar. Considering the stunned, slack jawed stares he got from the various employees, it was probably more than he should have been tossing away like that, but it'd probably guarantee a decent drink and they were working hard, so why not? "It's early, I don't eat when it's early." 

"It's three in the afternoon."

Wandering over to the pickup counter he replied, "Like I said, early." It was hard not to comment, or at least snicker, when Steve obligingly followed him and then waited for their drinks at something that looked vaguely like parade rest, but since he was trying to be good, Tony managed it.

"Large Americano and a double depth," the barista called out, putting their drinks on the counter. "Enjoy."

"Thank you," Steve said as he grabbed their drinks, following Tony to a small table in the back. He passed Tony his drink before sitting down and eying his own dubiously. "So, this is an Americano? 

"Try it, you'll like it," Tony wheedled. "You're caffeinating patriotically, remember?" He watched as Steve took a slow, experimental sip. "Not too shabby, right? Am I right, or am I right?"

"It's not bad." But the protest was half-hearted, Tony could tell.

"Not bad as in _way_ better than that swill you were drinking, right? And try the bars. Seriously, those death ones taste like an entire chocolate shop exploded in your mouth."

"You make it sound so appetizing," Steve muttered before taking a half-hearted bite. He moaned then, shutting his eyes slightly, obviously savoring the rich, chocolate taste. Tony had to quickly sip his own drink to keep his mouth full so he wouldn't say the first thing that came to mind when he heard that sound. Because comparing Captain America to a porn star? Yeah, probably not the best way to keep this semi-friendship thing going. And it'd most likely be detrimental to his own well being because while Steve might not punch him for it but if Natasha found out somehow? Yeah, he'd be eating through a straw for weeks.

"Thought you might like those," was what he finally settled on.

"You were right, it's amazing. Thanks. And for the drink too, it's much better than the stuff in the break room. What did you get?"

"A double depth charge, it's coffee with two shots of espresso. Lots of caffeine." Tony swirled his drink and debated snitching a bit of the icing off carrot creation bar while Steve was busy with the death bar but decided against it because super soldier probably meant super reflexes and men could get testy when defending their baked goods. 

"I've noticed you drink an awful lot of coffee, Tony. All that caffeine can't be good for you."

"It's the only thing that gets me going in the morning."

"I thought that's what you pay Pepper for," Steve said, just as Tony was taking a sip, resulting in Tony half snorting and half choking in surprise. 

Eventually he managed to sputter out, "What?"

"Isn't that part of her job? To keep you on your schedule and all?" Steve clarified as he took another sip of his Americano, his tone serious and earnest. 

"Oh! Oh, that. Steve, buddy, you gotta watch how you word things," Tony began to explain as he mopped up the bit of coffee he'd spilled with a napkin. "Paying for women, I mean, you have to be really careful-" but then he realized that Steve was holding his cup up much longer than necessary. The man was hiding behind it, the little sneak. "Very funny," Tony huffed.

"The look on your face. It was priceless." When he put his cup down Tony could see it had been hiding his smile; a wide, bright and wonderful smile.

Well what do you know, not only had Operation Smilin' Steve wound up being a success, but it had actually been fun. Would wonders never cease.


End file.
